confine

i recall when i use to write this way. flowing freestyle, no worries of form or rhyme. unsure of how it would read aloud or even fit on this page's lines. this is not like riding a bicycle. i'm peddling slowly and i'm falling weary. this page is so bright, like the sun with no shades and nothing can be seen too clearly.

so where do i go from me? writing nonsense alone in the dark. in the discomfort of my bed due to the work-morning i dread - i'd rather be parked in my car instead. just to get this all out so it's not in my head. and when i drive further down this pike and the dirt trails unwind, all of these words will just refill my mind. it was silly for me to want them to leave. it's their home in my space. on this page - between these light blue cell bars, if they ever make it this far...

...again.



cm050508